


to close my eyes and dream with you

by majesdane



Series: que estaba tan enamorada de ella como el primer día [5]
Category: Seis Hermanas (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: And Aurora's hand in hers, always. | this is the end. but it's also the beginning.





	

y así, vivíamos de nosotras.  
(and so, we lived for us.)  
\-- _50 cartas, 50 gracias_

what is there to say? you know how much i have loved you.  
\-- zelda fitzgerald, _letter to f. scott fitzgerald, february 1935_  


 

 

 

It's not a real ring, of course.

But it _feels_ like a real one, to Celia. Aurora slides it onto her finger, and Celia thinks that she might just float away right now, she's so buoyed up with love.

"Celia Silva," Aurora says, "do you want to marry me?" 

Celia nods. She can't stop grinning. " _Yes_ ," she finally manages, just before Aurora sweeps her up into her arms for a kiss. And they can't even kiss properly, they're smiling too much. They wrap their arms around each other, so tightly Celia can scarcely breathe. She doesn't know how long they stay like that, clinging to each other, until Aurora takes her hand and leads her to the bed.

"Meine Liebe," Aurora murmurs against Celia's ear, just like she did that first evening in the Ambigú. 

They're still the sweetest words Celia's ever heard.

 

;;

 

"When did you know?" Celia asks one evening, when they’re lounging in bed together. She’s sleepy with satisfaction and the warmth of Aurora’s body against hers. With her head against Aurora’s chest, she can hear the beating of Aurora’s heart, the slowing, steady pulse of it. 

Aurora hums. "Know?" she asks. Her fingers comb gently through Celia’s hair. 

"That you liked women, not men."

"What are you thinking about?" Aurora shifts and leans down to press a kiss to the top of Celia’s hand. Her hand falls away from Celia’s hair. Her fingers stroke gently along Celia’s forearms, her touch feather-light; it sends a little shiver of pleasure up Celia’s spine.

"I just realized that I’ve never really thought about it before," Celia tells her. "There was Petra, of course. But she wasn’t the start of everything. She just made me realize what I was feeling."

They drift off into silence. Celia yawns, nestling in closer to Aurora. She listens to the gentle patter of rain outside. Remembers the day when she and Aurora got caught in the rain on their way back from Casa Silva. How they’d run through the streets like schoolgirls, laughing and holding hands. Aurora had kissed her in the shadows of a tiny side-street. It had thrilled Celia then, thinking how anyone could have seen them. _This is the happiest I’ve ever been_ , Aurora had said. Now, Celia remembers the way Aurora had slid the makeshift engagement ring on her finger, remembers the way Aurora’s smile had felt against her own.

How could she be even happier now than she was back then on that rainy Sunday? It scarcely seems possible.

"Well . . ." Aurora says, finally breaking the silence. "I think it was when I was very young. But I didn't _know_ it then, not really. I just felt … _different_ , somehow. I would listen to my sister talk about boys and thought that one day I would understand it. But I never did."

"It was the same for me with my sisters," Celia tells her. "Like being dropped in a foreign land and not knowing the language."

Aurora chuckles. She puts two fingers underneath Celia’s chin and tilts her head up to bring their mouths together.

"And there was an older girl," Aurora continues. "My sister's closest friend. She was beautiful, and I was very taken. I thought I just admired her. I remember the way my heart would beat so hard on the occasions when we would be together."

Celia pushes herself up, moves until she’s top of Aurora completely, their bodies pressed flush together. "Beautiful, hm?" She brushes her nose against Aurora’s, enjoying the contented _mmm_ it elicits. Aurora’s arms loop around Celia’s neck.

"Sí. Of course, she couldn't compare to you." Aurora grins. She leans up and kisses Celia once, quickly. 

Celia can’t help but grin back. "Mm. Claro. Didn’t I say before that you got the best of Casa Silva?"

"I think I recall you mentioning it," Aurora teases, as Celia trails a line of little kisses along Aurora’s jawline. Her fingers slide down the length of Celia’s back. "But perhaps you should remind me."

 

;;

 

(later, celia thinks, she should have known not to be so happy. it only courted misery.)

(adela dies. and it’s awful. almost unbearable. the first few nights she wakes up crying so hard that she can’t even breathe.)

(and then, there’s flora … )

 

;;

 

At first, when the idea flits across her mind, she dismisses it completely.

Celia’s never wanted to hide. She’s never wanted to pretend to be someone she’s not. That’s not a life, not for her. Even thinking about it makes her feel stupid and cowardly. It’s one thing to be cautious -- she’s always understood the need for caution, even though there are times she wishes she could just shout from the rooftops how much she loves Aurora. Caution and discretion are necessary to survive. But she’s never felt ashamed. Not of who she is or her feelings for Aurora; those are things she couldn’t ever deny. And that’s hiding, she thinks: pretending not because you have to, but because it’s secretly what you really want.

She’s told Velasco all of this before. And she’d pitied him for wanting to change, even after all this time.

Which is why she feels so guilty when the idea of marrying Velasco crosses her mind again and this time she doesn’t dismiss it outright. It would be a perfect marriage of convenience. For them and for Aurora, too. It wasn’t what she truly wanted, of course --

(she only ever wanted it to be just her and aurora, forever)

\-- but wouldn’t it solve all of their problems? Wouldn’t it give them the peace they’ve all been looking for? No more suspicious looks, no more gossip. No more fear of being discovered, of being exposed. They could live freely.

Hiding, yes. But maybe it could be okay.

Aurora hates the idea. Celia had known she would; Aurora had come so far from how she’d been when they first met. A year ago, Aurora would have encouraged the marriage. Now, when Celia suggests it, Aurora frowns and stares down at her plate and says nothing. It’s almost enough to make Celia change her mind right then and there. But the longer the rumors persist, the more the school director starts to pry, the worse she feels. And now the idea’s more than just taken root in her head; it’s begun to blossom. 

Velasco refuses, at first. But soon, too, the idea takes hold of him as well.

(and celia can’t help but wonder what changed his mind, can’t help but think about the evening when aurora had come home and kissed her so hard it had left celia feeling dizzy and breathless. _i told you know one would ever harm you again_ , aurora had said, her eyes shining.)

It’s perfect.

For a while.

Aurora is hurting. Celia can feel it when they kiss, can feel it in Aurora’s touch. Things have changed between them now. It feels as if they’re so far apart, miles and miles, even when they’re lying in bed together; Aurora’s arm draped around Celia’s waist like always. And yet, there’s a part of Celia -- a small, horrible, ugly part -- that resents Aurora. Didn’t she marry Clemente? Didn’t she try to have a normal life? 

But it’s not the same thing, Celia knows, and it makes her sick to her stomach to think that she could even make those comparisons, even for a second. It’s not right, it’s not fair at all. Aurora had suffered so much because of it. And she’d sacrificed everything just so she could be with Celia again.

"Little by little, you’ll abandon me," Aurora tells her, and it’s the worst feeling in the world, for Celia to look at her and hear those words. Suddenly, Celia realizes she doesn’t know who she’s become. She doesn’t understand how she’s let things go this far.

(all she can think about is aurora standing in front of her, ring in hand, telling celia that from the very beginning, she knew she’d love celia forever. _the love of my life_ , she’d said, just like before.)

She holds Aurora’s hand even tighter. "I won’t abandon you."

 

;;

 

The next morning, she calls things off with Velasco. She can’t go on like this. There’s a thousand reasons why, but in the end, the one real truth of it is that Celia only wants to be with Aurora. No matter the cost. She can’t hide; she doesn’t have the capacity for it. That’s not who she was meant to be. And it’s not what Aurora deserves, either. 

 

;;

 

Later, that evening in bed, Celia sighs, toying with the edge of her book. "I don’t know how I’m going to get my job back," she admits. She doesn’t regret her decision to call the marriage off -- hasn’t even for one second -- but she can’t deny that it scares her. Anxiety wells up inside her, like blood in a fresh wound. "And I don’t know how we’re going to be able to leave our house without everyone looking at us. Judging us."

"Well," Aurora says, deftly plucking the book from Celia's hands and placing it on the nightstand. She hovers over Celia, grinning. "We can think about that tomorrow."

It makes Celia feel warm all over, to have Aurora look at her like that again, as if the past week was nothing more than a bad dream. All her anxiety melts away; ice in the hot summer sun. She loves Aurora with her whole being; right now, it’s the only thing she _does_ know.

Aurora's still grinning as she leans in for a kiss. Celia's arms go around her neck, drawing her in. A hot lick of desire cuts low across her belly. She giggles as Aurora wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her down lower onto the bed. Aurora tastes sweet, like the wine they had at dinner. Celia grips the back of Aurora's nightgown as Aurora rocks her hips against Celia's eagerly.

Celia reaches over to switch off the lamp beside their bed while Aurora's fingers creep up her thigh, hand sliding up underneath her nightgown. 

They undress quickly, tugging off nightgowns and underclothes, leaving them in a heap at the side of the bed. Celia feels strangely giddy; she feels like she did the first time the two of them made love, swelling with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Her heart skips along double-time in her chest as Aurora kisses her again, before dropping her head to trail her tongue down to Celia's nipple. Celia groans, her fingers burying themselves in Aurora's hair, Aurora's braid coming loose. 

As they roll onto their sides, their legs tangle together, and Celia can feel Aurora, hot and wet, pressed against her thigh. She slips her hand between them, stroking purposefully. Celia licks her lips, watches Aurora's eyes flutter closed. For a moment, the room is silent except for the sounds of their quickening breaths.

And then Aurora shifts, reaching down to gently tug Celia's hand away.

"Not yet," she says, licking the tip of Celia's finger with a coy smile. She pulls Celia in for another heady kiss, pressing Celia onto her back. She works her way down the length of Celia's body with a series of slow, open-mouthed kisses. Celia moans, tips her head back against the pillows, arcs her hips up against Aurora's mouth.

Aurora draws her out with slowly, with long, languid licks, until Celia is trembling, gasping, slick with sweat, her grip on the bed sheets is knuckle-white. When she comes, biting down on her free hand to stifles her cries, she sees stars. 

 

;;

 

Things are good again, for a little while. For a brief, wonderful moment, it feels as though maybe things will finally work out for them. 

But then the newspaper publishes an article about them and everything changes. In an instant, their whole world’s turned upside-down. The school director had threatened Celia, yes, but never would she have imagined that it would all come to this: her and Aurora’s relationship splashed out on the front page for the whole world to see. Their lives twisted into something tawdry and awful.

Something to be ashamed of. Something to be exposed.

It’s been a long time, Celia thinks, since everything seemed so bleak and hopeless to her. She rubs her thumb absentmindedly along the inside of her wrist, over the thin, raised scars. Right now, she’s more cognizant of them than ever. 

It only seems fitting, somehow, that it’s Carmen de Burgos who comes to their rescue. She sweeps into Arganzuela, as headstrong and brilliant as ever.

"You need to fight," she tells Celia, and it’s still incredible how easily Celia’s caught up in Carmen’s passion and excitement. Aurora’s taken, too; Celia watches Aurora watch Carmen, eyes full of wonder. It’s as if they’re back at their suffragist meetings once again. Filled to the brim with fire and confidence.

And it’s _almost_ enough to save them.

Almost.

 

;;

 

"Hola, Adela," Celia says.

She kneels down on the grass, placing with the flowers she'd brought in front of her. She reaches out to lightly trace her fingers along the letters carved into the smooth rock of Adela's gravestone. "I'm sorry that I haven't been by to visit you in a while. You wouldn't believe everything that's happened . . ."

She trails off, her hand falling back down to her side. Her eyes burn. "I miss you so much. Every day. I still can't believe that you're gone." Her voice falters.

Aurora's hand is on her shoulder, then. Celia reaches up to cover Aurora's hand with her own. The feeling of Aurora's hand against hers grounds Celia, just for a moment. She clears her throat, blinks away tears. 

"Are you alright?" Aurora asks quietly. 

Celia nods. She gives Aurora's hand a small squeeze. 

Aurora bends down and presses a kiss to the top of Celia's head. "I'll be waiting for you out front," she says. "Take as long as you need."

Celia nods again. Immediately she misses the reassuring feeling of Aurora’s hand on her shoulder. She watches Aurora walk away. An early autumn breeze kicks up; Celia pulls her shawl around her a little bit tighter. She listens to the rustle of leaves. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Adela's grave. She needed to see Adela one last time. She needed to say goodbye to Adela.

She imagines Adela in front of her, looking as lovely as the day she left for England. So full of life and boundless optimism. She remembers the way Adela smiled. The way she laughed. How Adela held her, when Celia was still very little; she'd been a sister and a mother all at once. Remembers cuddling in bed with Francisca, while Adela stroked their hair and sang them lullabies to help them fall asleep.

"Aurora and I are going away to Argentina," Celia says, at last. "I don't want to leave. But we have to. We must. There's no other choice." She presses her hands down the front of her skirt, smoothing it out. She swallows, licks her lips. "Aurora's the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life. I've been so happy by her side. I won't let anyone separate us."

Celia exhales a shaky breath. "So we've got to leave," she continues, after a pause. "I can't . . . I can't imagine what it will be like, being so far away from you. From all our sisters. I hope . . . I just want them to be happy." She smiles to herself, remembering. "I know that’s all you ever wanted for us."

She can't help it; she starts to cry. She wishes that Adela was here to hold her one last time. Wishes she could kiss Celia's cheek and tell Celia that everything was going to turn out alright, just like she always had before. 

"I love you," Celia says.

She puts her hand against Adela's gravestone and bows her head. 

 

;;

 

Aurora's by the cemetery gates, waiting.

She looks so beautiful in the fading afternoon light, backlit by the setting sun. She turns when she hears Celia approach, reaching out her hand. Celia threads their fingers together and pulls Aurora close to her. She doesn't care who might see them, not anymore. Aurora doesn't seem to care either; she wraps an arm around Celia and presses a kiss to Celia's temple, to her cheek.

They stay like that for a long moment.

At last, Aurora steps back. "Are you ready?" she asks.

Celia looks down at their intertwined fingers. She looks back over her shoulder, to where she came from.

"I'm ready."

 

;;

 

They stand on the deck of the ship, leaning on the railings, watching as the outline of the coast fades away into the distance. The stars are coming out; they sparkle brightly in the semi-darkness of the early evening. Celia and Aurora stand in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the ship cutting through the ocean and the snap of flags in the wind. They stand just close enough together so that they can touch, arm pressed against arm. 

At last, when it grows too dark and too cold to stay outside, they make their way down to their cabin.

Inside, they shrug off their coats, folding them over the side of a tall-backed chair with delicately carved arms. The wind has tugged a few strands of Aurora's hair loose and they fall, dark and striking, across her face. Celia reaches forward and tucks them behind Aurora's ear. Aurora smiles and knits her fingers into the front of Celia's blouse, pulling her in for a kiss.

"Well, Señorita Celia," Aurora says, when they pull apart. "What are we going to do in Argentina?"

Celia adjusts the collar of Aurora's shirt. "I haven't decided yet." Her arms go around Aurora's neck as she leans in for another slow kiss. It’s so soft and sweet, Celia thinks she might swoon. She’ll never grow tired of kissing Aurora. Years and years and it’ll still be like kissing her for the first time; heart beating so fast and hard she thinks she’ll wake up the next morning feeling bruised.

When they pull apart, Aurora gazes at Celia with a half-smile on her face. "I don't care what happens," she tells Celia, resting their foreheads together. "As long as I'm with you."

Her face is so full of love. Something sparks in Celia just then. Happiness. Fear. Excitement. It's hard to believe that this is all happening -- hard to believe how far they'd come. She can still recall the way she'd felt, sitting on that park bench, when Aurora told her that they were the same, that Celia wasn’t sick. That everything would be okay. For the first time in her life, she hadn't felt alone. Everything had seemed just a little bit brighter; the sun seemed to shine in a way that it hadn't for a very long time.

And then there was everything else that came after that. There'd been tears, yes. And fighting. They'd been afraid. Things hadn't always been easy -- but they’d been good, too. There'd been a lot of laughter. And kisses. And coffee over breakfast. And warm nights. And acceptance. And happiness.

And Aurora's hand in hers, always.

(bendita locura que me hace feliz)

And, simply, she says --

"Quiero ser tu esposa para siempre."

Aurora's eyes shine. She moves forward and cups Celia's face in her hands, just as gently as she did when they first kissed, so long ago. "Yo tambien," she murmurs, their mouths only inches apart.

After that, they don't speak for quite some time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to heartsways for looking this over.


End file.
